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by ffoulkes_no



Series: Flight/Collapse [2]
Category: The Dresden Files (TV)
Genre: Gen, forever incomplete
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 20:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15056876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ffoulkes_no/pseuds/ffoulkes_no
Summary: Before everything went wrong, it had been going well.





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**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ's dresdenfic community in 2009.
> 
> Chapter 1 of 2, now forever unfinished. Companion/prequel to "Flight," although that should be read first.

The Warden Arth was a tall, broad man, fair-headed, and considered quite handsome by most of the women in the various villages that he visited on his rounds. However, most who admitted to such were not seeing him as he appeared on that particular day -- mud had stained his gray cloak and face, and had worked its way into his hair. Bits of moss and weed stuck fast to the mud, and brambles caught along the hems of his clothing, giving the unfortunate Warden more the appearance of a fallen tree trunk than a proud official of the High Council. However, few of the villagers took notice of his messy appearance as he ran through the streets. Most were far more interested in the small, leggy, hissing creature that galloped ahead of him, overturning carts and snapping at passerby.  
  
Arth carried a roll of rope, inscribed with binding runes, out in front of him as he ran. He'd tied the end into a loop and made several attempts to throw a lasso over the thing's neck. He missed twice outright. The third time, he succeeded in catching the local butcher. After a hasty apology (for the man carried a large, dangerous-looking knife), Arth continued his pursuit. The leggy thing ran across the tops of shop signs, shelves, and windowsills; nowhere that offered a clear shot. Finally, it came to rest on an overturned wheelbarrow. It scratched and bit at the spinning wheel, distracted. Arth saw his chance and threw again. The loop of the rope sailed over the creature's head. Startled, it bolted away.  
  
The Warden cursed and tugged at the rope to reel it back in. It did not return. Confused, Arth tugged again, harder, before looking up. The other end was being held by a very amused looking man atop a white gelding.  
  
Arth closed his eyes and sighed, "Sorcerer Bainbridge, I would have my rope back. I need it."  
  
"Do you so?" Hrothbert moved his horse closer, though he did not release the rope, "For catching shopkeepers? Will you wrangle a cooper, next?"  
  
The look that the Warden gave Hrothbert would have cowed a lesser man, but he simply smiled and held out the loop of the rope politely. Arth snatched it back, winding the rope around his forearm as he walked away, "Unless you are going to aid me in capturing this forest goblin... leave."  
  
"But I wouldn't dream of missing your first duty as an active Warden of the High Council," Hrothbert said in mock-concern, his horse keeping pace with the other man through the creature-wrecked street. "And what a stupendous task they have given you! How marvelous! They must think very highly of you, Warden Arth, to entrust you with such a duty! Ensnaring a fierce, wily forest imp--"  
  
"Goblin," Arth corrected, though he didn't give Hrothbert the satisfaction of looking up.  
  
"--while your less-than-lion-hearted comrades tackle fiends and vampires and..."  
  
"Sorcerers?" The Warden did look up, then, if only to see if he'd flustered the proud and haughty Bainbridge. Color had risen to the other man's cheeks, but they were both interrupted by the appearance of a dark-haired woman holding a wriggling sack at arm's length.  
  
"I believe, Warden Arth," she said, setting the bag down, "that this belongs to you."  
  
Arth stared at the bag in disbelief, "You... how did you capture it?"  
  
Hrothbert had dismounted and pulled Winifred against him. They nuzzled and kissed (Arth knew that Hrothbert always made more of the affections when he was around, as if to rub his nose in it) before Winifred spoke: "The streets are filled with mud from the rains, I simply waited until the goblin had come to rest in a deep puddle and dried it to dirt. It was held quite fast." She looked at Arth's mud-soaked cloak and smiled, an honest smile, "You look as if you have had a very poor afternoon, Warden."  
  
"I-- Yes, Lady Winifred, I suppose I have," Arth made a belated bow, suddenly self-conscious of the mud and plant matter covering his face and clothing.  
  
Winifred gave him that same warm smile and with a single word and a slight gesture, pulled all of the mud and debris from his person. It pattered to the ground in a wet heap. "As of today, you are a full-fledged Warden, and you must look your best," she said. Arth smiled slightly in thanks, but it did not reach his eyes. Winifred pulled away from Hrothbert to stand in front of him, "Are you not happy with your new office, my lord?" She refrained from his new title, cautious.  
  
Arth looked as if he wanted to speak, but shook his head, "It is nothing."  
  
"'Nothing' would not spead such doubt in your eyes," Winifred said. At her side, Hrothbert looked as if he were going to make an unkind remark. Winifred shoved the still-wriggling sack into his arms and shooed him away. He scowled and went to go retrieve the gelding.  
  
They began to walk the road out from the village. "You can still speak to me of such things," Winifred said. "My marriage to Hrothbert has not changed my affection or my concern for you."  
  
Arth nodded, swallowed, then spoke, softly, "I am beginning to wonder, but only just, if I have... made the right choice."  
  
"In becoming a Warden?"  
  
He nodded, "But understand, my lady, that it is only a sliver of doubt. Less than a grain of wheat, or a snowflake within a snowbank. And yet..." Winifred put a hand on his arm, supportive and kind. He sighed, "And yet I am unsure if I can do my duty when even a single hair upon my head doubts my purpose." He threw up his hands, "But what else am I to do? There is no honor for men who shirk their duty to the Council..."  
  
Winifred looked thoughtful, "It would not be disagreeable to me, should you decide to join us."  
  
Arth's head jerked towards her, "My lady?" His face was all confusion. He was about to continue, but suddenly Hrothbert was at Winifred's side, speaking quickly. Despite the sorcerer's distance, his wizard's hearing had allowed eavesdropping.  
  
"We did not discuss this, my lady," Hrothbert said, in a mock-hush at Winifred's ear, "allowing this... this... oafish, boring, close-minded--"  
  
" _I can hear you..._ "  
  
"--imbecilic _Warden_ ," and the title was all-but spat, "to accompany us!" He then straightened, coughed, and turned to Arth: "However... you have never wronged us. Winifred wishes it so. And," he did not look at the Warden when he spoke, "I know what it is to feel unsuited for the path life has chosen." He sniffed, "I would not object to it."  
  
Arth looked stunned. "Sorcerer Bainbridge, Lady Winifred... I am most honored," he bowed, "but I must decline."  
  
Hrothbert showed offense, Winifred confusion.  
  
He held up a hand, placating, "While it is true that I cannot yet fully feel myself a Warden of the High Council, I fear I could _never_ feel myself a sorcerer, outside of the Law." Arth pulled at his gray cloak, straightening it, "Some men have the strength to exist beyond barriers. I am afraid that I do not." He sighed, "I have committed myself to the Council, and here I shall remain. For better or worse."  
  
"Then, as you are a full-fledged Warden," Hrothbert said with humor, hoping to lighten the somber mood, "I must remind you that it is your duty to apprehend sorcerers."  
  
Arth nodded, "Ah. Yes. Do tell me if you see any nearby. I have heard they can be dangerous."  
  
"Oh, yes," Winifred laughed, "and quite devious."  
  
"...I would not have you harmed, you know."  
  
Both sorcerers turned to look at Arth.  
  
"You are neither dangerous nor devious. Troublesome, perhaps," he shot a pointed look at Hrothbert, who seemed to take it as a compliment, for he beamed, "but not dangerous. So long as you are both gray sorcerers, I will do my best to give you warning of my fellows' actions against you." He then took Winifred's hand in his own, "Further, I still care most deeply for the Lady Winifred. I know my feelings cannot be returned, but... nothing would please me more than her continued safety... or the safety of those she cares about." He clapped a hand on Hrothbert's shoulder. Hrothbert gripped it, briefly.  
  
The sorcerer was about to comment on the newly-appointed Warden already going soft when something bit through the air. It was a taste like tarnished silver and the dew before a storm, and the three wizards scarcely had time to comprehend what it meant before reality tore open and Commander Grimbold, highest ranking of the Wardens of the High Council, stepped directly into their path.


End file.
